The Weapon
by diaryofafirefly
Summary: My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, my whole life literally before my eyes. Everything that had ever happened to me, everything about me, my identity, hell, even my DNA. And I was about to erase it for the sake of the planet. Not for me. Not for the mutants. For you average everyday people who innocently live sheltered lives. Sigh. What I do for humans.
1. Explosions and Sardines

**Okay, so this is basically the preview chapter. It's shorter than I want the others to be, but if this is an okay length then tell me in the comments. Anywho, read it if you like, and tell me watcha think!**

"Come on, come on, come on!" Did anyone ever tell you that computers are incomprehensibly, _insufferably_ slow? It wasn't my fault that this firewall was taking more than ten seconds to crack, the stupid software was at dinosaur levels of technology. It was a _Chromebook,_ for Dumbledore's sakes! The very thought disgusts me. But a mutant's got to do what a mutant's got to do. "Damn hunk of junk!

 _ **032145170032645066546196t5965185829649659746992classzed4487234569219569195654969104567845633565529854921559361923%543983495969826r9969996549653applytyredmen44896922354425855394ee00778032137356137245683428935682918652690969qy34624o1569769182356329562559`9256934871925669219464594875923456hypergump6741123465123964327650976230 Enter Sanctum**_

 **ACCESS GRANTED**

 **ENTERING SHIELD SECURE NETWORK**

"Ma'am, you have five minutes remaining before the alpha-server rejects your falsified entry and notifies personnel. Deployed operatives will arrive five minutes after. I suggest you proceed at a much less sedate pace." I glared briefly at my MAISSIE device, wondering(not for the first time, and, doubtless, not for the last time) why I hadn't just thrown it away yet. Mutant Artificial Intelligence Support System and Interspecies Engine. My first ever invention. Essentially, she annoys me by remembering things she thinks I'll forget(pfft, I never forget anything! Stupid machine.) and beeps every time another mutant is near. She's also conveniently encased in a very heavy metal box about the size of my head. And I have to carry her everywhere. Stupid machine.

Okay, so maybe she's the only friend I have. Maybe she's occasionally good for gathering information. Maybe I would probably be screwed if I didn't have her right now. Maybe. But don't you dare tell her I said so, I'll never hear the end of it.

Oh, yeah, you might want to kinda know me before I have you sorta accidentally(sorry, not sorry) become a witness to a cyber-crime. You may or may not have to appear in court and testify, and may or may not be counted as an accomplice(again, not very sorry); depending on if they find you. Or me. Or the website. Okay, fine. They're probably on the way now. Just get the hell outta dodge when you hear sirens. Anywho...

I'm Hayden, by the way. Hayden Pen. Current wanted fugitive, criminal, hacker, and ex-Penitentiary experiment. I also dabble( _cough_ I'm obsessed _cough)_ in gaming. I'm also a mutant with dangerous powers. What great new friends you have, diary reader! Excellent choice of allies! Now on with the story!

 **12960170607029474567590926604922635047723386713UU6774676758688374593765064930265I**

 **PROCEEDING TO FORTIFIED KNOWLEDGE BANKS**

 **9473144256633985736I952386547824868758800887523231649603527373789012573180303076742**

 **MUTANT RECORDS FILE OBTAINED**

 **EXPERIMENT** **426** **CODE NAME –** **THE WEAPON** **– FILE ACCESSED**

 **ARE YOU SURE YOU WISH TO DELETE?**

My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, my whole life literally before my eyes. Everything that had ever happened to me, everything about me, my identity, hell, even my DNA. And I was about to erase it for the sake of the planet. Not for me. Not for the mutants. For you average everyday people who innocently live sheltered lives.

"Two more minutes, ma'am." Sigh. What I do for humans.

 **FILE TERMINATION COMPLETE IN**

 **5**

 **4**

 **3**

 **2**

 **1**

 **FILE DELETED FROM DATABASE**

"SHIELD Operatives are being deployed as we speak. I suggest erasing all history from you device and disposing of it." I glared at her, already doing just that.

"No shit, Sherlock. I'm not _that_ dumb _._ Wait no, I counter that claim. I created you, there had to be some stupid in me to do that." I was in full-blown sarcastic bitch mode, my nerves surfacing. I could disappear from all known record and stay on the run for ten years, sure, but fight a fully trained special agent? Screw that. I'd rather live and retain all my limbs, thank you.

 **ALL HISTORY TERMINATED**

 **DEVICE SELF-DESTRUCT IN**

 **10**

 **9**

 **8**

I threw on my hoodie, grabbed MAISSIE, shouldered my backpack, and ran like hell out the door. I barely made it ten feet from the(thankfully abandoned) warehouse before a huge blast force knocked me flat on the ground. Ouch. Okay, so maybe the self-destruct would attract too much attention and end up getting me caught, making this all in vain. Maybe it was a stupid-ass idea. I never said I was a smart mutant. But, I had to admit, it was pretty badass.

"Ma'am, SHIELD operatives will reach your location in less than one minute. I suggest you use your skills." I glared at her through the dirt in my eyes, scrambling to my feet.

"I'm in the middle of New York, dumbo, the warehouse district no less! There are plenty of dark alleys and small places to hide in. There's no need nor cause to use my curse." And I vowed to never use them again. I would never, _ever_ , willingly even _risk_ having a repeat of Gregorville. My Weapon days were over. I dashed down a back alley, hopping a rusty old fence, and crawled through a small vent on the side of an old Canned Sardines building. _Great, just my luck. Stuck with nothing but MAISSIE and the smell of salty fish. Being me really is a thankless job._

"They have now arrived. I detect three new heat signatures, none of mutant origin. They have yet to turn your way." I sighed in relief, thankful that the old hunk of junk had at least managed to be quiet in her report, curling into a ball at the far corner of the vent system. Even if one of them could fit in with me(which wasn't likely, considering most SHIELD agents were just overgrown jocks), they wouldn't catch me. The only down side: I was backed into a corner. A tight, dimly lit corner. Great.

My stomach grumbled loudly.

"Ma'am, I sense that your blood sugar levels are considerably lower than they should be according to your weight and age. I suggest ingesting a meal of high sugar or calorie content."

" _Sure_ , MAISSIE, I'll stop by a McDonalds as soon as, you know, my freedom isn't in jeopardy. And when I have the money. And when I'm not on the run from the law." Sarcasm basically dripped from my words, but, of course, the cool female voice next to me failed to notice.

"Thank you for listening, ma'am."

"No problem." There was suddenly shouting nearby, slowly drawing closer. Judging by the noise level, it was one man and one woman. I asked my AI just to make sure.

"MAISSIE, report." I whispered my words carefully, hugging her box close to my chest. I had no weapons on me, no means of defending myself should the occasion arise. I know, I'm a shitty fugitive. But, if it makes it any better, I _am_ a pacifist. People don't provoke those who can't fight...right?

"The operatives seemed to have caught your trail. You left footprints leading back from the warehouse, and faint traces of your perfume are in the air." She showed faint blue pictures and diagrams of this as she explained, revealing my crappy ninja skills. Oops. "I recommend you are more careful next time."

"Well _excuse me_ for not wanting to smell like a dirty sheep! Besides, you try covering foot prints when running on gravel in converse!" I whisper screamed, quickly realizing the ridiculousness of the situation. MAISSIE was artificial intelligence, housed in an old VCR with a screen wired in. She'd never had to run before. Obviously she didn't know the struggles. "Anyway, how long till they find me?"

"Five minutes maximum, another five maximum before they breech the ventilation shaft."

"Any exits?" A holographic map of the duct system appeared, with a little red dot showing my location.

"At your current position, the only possible way out is north, west, then south and east." A trail appeared, and I fearfully looked up. It was a high climb. Luckily, though, the metal was cheaply welded together, so bits of it stuck out in small niches. Hand-holds for the desperate.

"Lordie, that's rather daunting, isn't it? Is it too late to say I'm scared of heights?" I let out a few weak chuckles. Silence. "She tells the AI."

I shoved MAISSIE's box snuggly into my sweatshirt, tucking it into my jeans and hitching my backpack higher onto my shoulders. I sniffed snottily and channeled my inner arrogance. Psssh, silly little ventilation shaft. Who do you think you are? No Match For Me, that's who. I got this.

"I really wish I'd kept in shape after running away." I was dripping malodorous sweat that stung my eyes and nose with every panting breath, muscles burning. I have earned a new respect for those dudes in American Ninja Warrior. This crap is harder than I thought.

"An Operative has entered the shaft, Ma'am. A woman who is not in my mutant databases or citizen records by any form of facial recognition. She does not emit the Signal either." I pushed myself into climbing faster. Just seven more notches, just seven. I got this!

"Assessment?" I barely got the word out, I was breathing so hard. I had to tell MAISSIE to remind me to start jogging.

"Age: late twenties. Major Skills: hand-to-hand combat, agility, endurance, and high intelligence. Weapons: two handguns, three throwing knives, poisoned hairpins, gloves enhanced with electrical charge, and a small hand grenade. Likelihood of Defeat Should You Not Use Your Gift: 100%. Likelihood of Defeat Should You Use Your Gift: 0%." I disregarded the last part.

"Holy guacamole. What about the dude?" I finally managed to heave myself out of the shaft and into a duct, panting and pressing my cheek to the cool metal.

"He possesses the same skill level, although his strength is in long-distance targeting, not short-distance battle. He could fit into the shaft as well." I groaned.

"So basically I need to run like hell?"

"Affirmative."

"Sigh." I lifted myself to my knees and started speed-crawling. Have you ever tried to speed-crawl through a cramped vent that reeks of sardines while trying to outrun a badass she-agent with super-skills? It sucks. I have the right to complain.

My stomach growled again, and this time I felt bile rise in my throat. Ew.

"Ma'am, I suggest resting and ingesting a high calorie-"

"I really don't have the time right now, you stupid machine! If you don't shut up I'll never de-bug you again, do you hear me?!" The agent probably heard me screaming, but I could hardly care. I was hungry, tired, sweaty, and afraid. And I really needed to pee. MAISSIE went quiet. "That's what I thought."

"In the name of SHIELD, I order you to cease movement and allow yourself to be placed in our custody. You have violated the law-"

"Look lady, I honestly don't care what you have to say. There's no way in hell I'm going downtown without a fight." I crawled at top-speed, her voice uncomfortably close. Just one more turn, then down a vent shaft to the exit. I might have to kick open a disgusting air-filter, but it was better than getting captured by SHIELD. They sucked almost as much as The Penitentiary.

"There is no escape, my team has the whole building surrounded." So not just a badass she-agent, but a bull-shitter too! Ha, I might actually like her. Well, if she wasn't chasing me, that is.

"I hacked into one of your dear company's most secure files, you seriously think I'm stupid enough to fall for that age-old trick?"

"So you admit it," Okay, maybe I am a little stupid. What can I say? She's good. The drop appeared, and I looked warily down. It wasn't too terribly far.

"I hate to cut this lovely conversation short, but I have a prior engagement that I must attend to. Hasta Lavista, baby!" I jumped down the hole, kicking out the rusty old grate as soon as I landed, triumph fueling my actions. I swiftly jumped out of the duct and got the hell out of dodge. I actually out-ran SHIELD! Cool!

"Ma'am, if I may?" I was beyond caring about MAISSIE's incompetence, fueled only by adrenaline as I ran.

"Fire away, my Computerized Companion!" I was nearing the end of the warehouse district, approaching New York proper. I could tell by the increased smell of BO and hot dogs, as well as the sound of traffic that had grown from a low hum to a roar. Even in the middle of the nigh, Manhattan was wide awake.

"I inquire as to what your plan for the future is now that your files have been terminated. I wish to begin analyzing the best possible area of rest." I slowed a bit, momentarily caught off-gaurd. To be honest, I hadn't really thought this far.

For the longest time my only focus has been eliminating all traces of my existence and creating a new identity. Just getting by was really my only worry. Well, other than being constantly alert for Penitentiary guards and spies, that is. Now I had a new name, fabricated family and past, and no one who could possibly find me. I wasn't Experiment 426 anymore. I was Hayden Pen, and I was free.

"You know what? We're in New York. Let's see the lights."

 **So, this is stuff you should know about the OC so far:**

 **Her name is Hayden Pen**

 **She's 15 as of this chapter**

 **She's a mutant(obviously)**

 **She's also quite tech-savvy; unbeatable in video-games, a very gifted hacker, and created a Mutant Artificial Intelligence Support System and Interspecies Engine with basically nothing but a trashed VCR, a screen, and some extra wires. MAISSIE's basically her JARVIS, neither her nor Tony would have lasted long without them.**

 **Hope you liked, and please review, follow, fav, whatever you want :P**


	2. Mario Kart and Vodka

**I am sooooo sorry I haven't updated in awhile, my grandpa's been in the hospital. I know that's an overused excuse, but I have proof. They're writing a article in the Medical Journal about him. He has two diseases at the same time that no one's ever had before. But enough about me! On with the story.**

 **Brief Summary:** **Hayden's up to her usual antics, MAISSIE's still annoying(read: helpful), and we introduce a new important character! She also meets one of the Avengers!**

 **The song I played to help me write this chapter was The Anthem by Good Charlotte. I also played it while I was re-reading, and they kinda go good together(if not completely match-matchy lyrics wise) so feel free to play it while you feast your eyes.**

 **And thank you to my one reviewer, StellarLuna, this chapter's dedicated to you!**

 **-Hayden Pen**

Have you ever had one of those moments where you were so completely and totally crap-faced on booze that you couldn't even remember your mom's name? Neither have I. But this guy obviously had. If there were any customers in this early in the morning, they would've already fled from his stench alone, and his stumbling was kinda making me dizzy.

"Hey dude, no alcoholic drinks allowed. This a game store, not a bar." He ignored me, continuing to slosh vodka on the cheep linoleum floor. The floor that my manager _just_ made me clean. "Come on, seriously?"

"Zzz ther' a - _burp-_ b'throom? Gotta pee," It already looked like he wet himself, judging by the large wet stain on his pants, but I decided not to say anything. The months of working with drunks on my waitress jobs had taught me to handle them as one would an unwanted relative: humor them for a bit until they get it through their thick skulls to leave. Or just call the cops.

"No, we're _a game store_. Not a Quick Trip. Come back when you're sober."

"Zzz it 'n the...the back?" I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Daniel! We've got another one! He won't leave," There was a flurry of curses as I heard my co-worker bang his head on something, probably that comic book shelf again, before dashing out to join me behind the register. He was a bit older than me, but a lot taller, and he never quite grew out of his awkward-gangly-teenager stage. The dude looked like an overgrown monkey with acne issues.

"What? What is it?" He looked like he'd just woken up, hair flat on one side of his head and wild on the other. Probably napping on the job. Again.

"Bubba over there wants to know where the bathroom is. Care to show him?" Daniel groaned, the drunk dude farted, and I gagged. "Soon would be awesome."

"Its too early for this," Daniel hopped over the counter, gabbed our lovely customer by the arm, and dragged him outside; presumably to the nearest bus stop. Or hospital. I yawned.

This Game Stop definitely wasn't my most exciting job ever, but at least I got a 50% discount on all the games, controls, and merch, so that kinda made up for it. Ish. I'd worked ten different jobs before now, each cooler than the first, so this one was kinda a let down. The first was a babysitter for this family in Queens(which only lasted about a week before I got too fed up with wiping their five-year-old's butt. He refused to go near a toilet.), the next three were barista jobs where I met some cool aspiring poets, then a weird period of sorting thongs at Victoria's Secret(after that long of snooping, I still haven't found it yet. Her secret, I mean. She must hide it really well), then I stayed about a year at this bookstore in New Orleans, and the last four were waitressing. They weren't what I really wanted to do, they kinda sucked actually, but it put bread on the table. Er, well, Ramen noodles in my case. Bread was a tad too expensive. That's a really depressing thought...

It's been three years and two months since I officially became Hayden Pen, and I'm still not used to staying in one place. That's why I've had so many jobs; I just can't sit still. Either from fear of someone finding me, or just plain itchy feet, I really don't know. I've seen lots of places I'll never forget, people I wish I never met, and lived in some pretty dingy places. But at least I wasn't on the run anymore. Focus on the bright side! The glass is always half full...or something like that.

The point is I'm always traveling. Somehow, by coincidence or not, out of all the places in the world, I'd wandered back to Manhattan. Not very far from the Warehouse District either. I guess my subconscious was feeling nostalgic.

"Remind me to quit this job after my nap," I snapped out of my musings to see Daniel slouching into the store, a little worse for wear and damp from the rain-but-not-really-rain outside.

"Sorry, can't. I don't do favors for negligent co-workers."

"Oh, hardy-har-har. You won't be laughing after your first year here, kid, that's for sure." He's been working here for thirteen months. I don't know how he does it. This was my fourth week and I was already looking at the Classifieds every morning.

"I don't plan on staying that long." He shrugged, not really caring either way, and went back into the Break Room to finish his nap. I took out my phone and started aimlessly scrolling through IFunny.

After about two hours of complete and total boredom, my sanity started to wane. I couldn't take this sedentary crap anymore, I had to walk, run, do some frickin' interpretive dance; something that doesn't involve sitting on my ass! I had to get out of this store.

And I might just not come back.

My manager was a butt-hole anyway, and the pay was crappy. I had all my bills paid for the month, my Ramen stores were pretty okay, and the dog had food. I already got my check. Why not quit?

I grabbed a random piece of paper and a pen to explain my absence to Daniel.

 _Dear Sleeping Beauty,_

 _I think that year mark is a bit too far away for me. I'm gonna take a very long walk, and you should expect me to come back_ _around never_ _. You catch my drift? Tell Manager Misogynist to kiss my ass._

 _All my love,_

 _Hayden Pen_

For dramatic effect, I put a little lipstick on and kissed the page, then haphazardly tossed it on the table next to Daniel. It narrowly missed his large pool of drool. I really wasn't gonna miss him. I grabbed my bag and jacket, tossed my key onto the cashier desk(after locking the shop's door, of course. I may be quitting without a word, but I'm not that huge of a jerk), and walked out. I felt a little bad for leaving without my 2 weeks or much of an explanation, but I really hated goodbyes. And my manager. Well, this would've been more of a good riddance, but an ending nonetheless. And endings meant closed doors, never to be opened again. I've been locked away way too long a time to except that.

~.~

"Too processed...ew jalapeño...Slim Jims are a disgrace to humanity...Sasquatch are glorified sausages...aha! The real stuff!" I snatched a couple bags of Jerkins' Jammin' Jerky(it sounds sketchy, I know, but its the best beef jerky outside of a smokehouse), salivating at the sight. Other people can't live without cigarettes, or beer, or the next episode of Face Off. Me? I'm weird(nothing new there). I'm addicted to jerky. I literally get withdrawal symptoms without it. Shaking, headaches, moodiness, the whole nine yards. But, I mean, there are worse things to need on a daily basis. I tossed some into my basket.

"Guilty pleasure? Check. Independence points gained from quitting cruddy job? Also check. Probability of movie night to celebrate? 100%. This calls for popcorn and Vodka!" I really need to stop talking to myself in public. Sooner or later, someone's gonna haul me off to the loony bin. That old man in the greeting cards aisle was already looking at me weird...

"Excuse me miss, but can you point me to the snack aisle? I pulled the short straw on buying groceries for my flat and I've never been to this store before." The guy smiled bashfully, rubbing his neck. I shrugged.

"Never really been farther than this aisle myself. The only reason I ever come is 'cause they have good jerky. But, I'm lookin' for the snack aisle too, and two heads are better than one," I picked up one last bag of jerky. They were only a buck for a ten piece bag, I was not passing that up. "We can team up."

"Sure. I'm Xavier, Xavier Way." I shook his offered hand.

"Hayden Pen."

Thus began the long and hilarious journey to finding the junk food. Boy and girl who are easily distracted + no real hurry + a craving for fun= chaos. We had a particularly loud Mario Kart war in the electronics area, tried every free sample we could get our paws on, tormented a few soccer moms in the clothes section by switching hanger tags around so the jeans were labeled the completely wrong sizes(that was my idea. I am so evil), tried to make a house of cards out of paint swatches, and rearranged all the sports cups with letters on them to spell out 'Run, Forest, Run'. Just to name a few. It probably took an hour or so to finally stumble across the food(not that we were looking too hard, in all honesty. I hadn't had this much fun with a regular human in...well...forever, I guess), both of us laughing so hard that it was completely silent and we couldn't even breathe.

"The look on her face was priceless!" He gasped leaning against the peanut butter shelf for support. Me? I was clutching my stomach on the floor, feeling like I'd pee myself if I laughed any harder. "I never would've thought putting condoms in the baby clothes would have such an insane effect!"

"I know! I didn't know an old lady could look so scandalized!"

" _The virtue of youth these days is simply deplorable!"_ I laughed harder, if that is even possible, and felt in actual danger of wetting myself as he gave such a horrid impression of an older woman's voice. This guy had to be a comedian or something!

" _In my day, children were cherished and premeditated!"_

 _"What is this?! Contraception? Unspeakable!"_

"Stop, stop! I'm gonna pee!" My bladder was saved, thankfully, by the ringing of his cellphone.

 _ **A MARLOTTO, AN ALBINO, A MISQUITO, MY LIBIDO! …..YEAH! ….YEAH!...**_ _ **YEAH!**_

 __"Hey House, what's up?" He asked after a moment of scrambling for his phone, putting it on speaker, clutching at his likely aching stomach.

" _Nirvana? Really?_ " I mouthed, sobering up a bit. That was so overdone. He silenced me with a playful glare.

 _"Dude, where are you? You went for food like an hour ago."_

"I got sidetracked," He winked at me mischievously, and I smirked. That's me, Ms. Sidetracked. House didn't sound too pleased.

 _"But I'm huuuuungryyyyy! And_ _Freya_ _woke up from her nap_ _like_ _thirty_ _minutes ago. She keeps asking for you."_

 _"_ _What?!_ Why didn't you call me the minute she opened her eyes?!" Xavier turned frantic, quickly stuffing all the food he could reach into his hand basket. "Did you give her the medicine? Did she go to the bathroom yet? Did she fall?" He stopped dead, eyes widening. " _Are you even watching her?_ "

" _Bro, calm your dude boobs. She's chillin' on the couch right next to me watchin' some Doc McStuffins. Freya, say something so your dad doesn't flip shit."_

 _"_ Language, House! Language!" I watched amusedly as Xavier became less frantic, actually stopping to check prices and brands before grabbing. I was kinda disappointed that he had to leave, though. For a dad, this guy was pretty cool. And cute. In a dorky sorta way.

" _Daddy? Where'd you go?"_

"Hey, baby. I'm at the store. Anything you want?" He dropped some cereal in the basket, purposefully getting a box with a cool toy. I know it's horrible, but...I'm kinda jealous of this Anna kid. The only thing my mom ever gave me was a shove into the hands of the Penitentiary.  
" _Yeah! Can I get goldfish?! Can I, can I, can I?!_ "

"Sure. I'll be back in ten, okay?"

" _'Kay! Love you! House love you too! Don'tcha House?_ " There was a derisive snort in the background. My laughter had finally subsided, replaced by a warmth in my chest that I couldn't really explain. It was weird and lovey, and I wished it would stop.

"Love you too. Bye." Xavier glanced at my smirking face once, blushed tomato red, and looked away. He was so cute.

"So, _Daddy_ , need anymore help getting _sidetracked_?" I chuckled, heaving myself up off the floor. Ugh, so much work. I really need that Vodka. The great thing about being Hayden Pen: unlike real me, who's 18, she's 21.

"Quiet, you. I don't even know you for an hour and you already get me in trouble with my family. So not cool."

"Hey, if I remember correctly, _you_ were the one that started that Mario Kart battle. Which, may I add, was won by _moi_."

"Whatever. I was really awesome to meet you, but I gotta go." He didn't seem angry, per se, but in quite the hurry to leave. Well, he had another thing coming, 'cause he actually caused me to have _fun_ just then. And I like fun, so he was sticking around a while.

"Hold up there, Mister Grumpy! We just fooled around in a Walmart for an hour, causing beautiful chaos, and you think you can just leave? No. You're taking my number whether you like it or not." I grabbed his hand, quickly penned on my number(which you don't need to know; you nosy readers, you) before unceremoniously dropping it and strutting away. _Oh yeah, I look totally badass right now. I wish I had some killer background music or something._ _I'm killing it._

Well, up until I tripped and fell on my face, that is. Minor details.

~.~

"I hope you know that I love you right now." No answer. "Seriously. This is a huge thing for me." Still no response. "Ungrateful mutt."

"Ma'am, I am inclined to remind you that Maverick does not have the capabilities to speak English. He can not reply." I rolled my eyes, not even deigning MAISSIE with an answer, pulling on my other trainer. This was gonna suck.

Remember how I mentioned not staying in shape after the Penitentiary? Well, that came back to bite me in the ass.

Last year, when I lived in Missouri, I came across a tiny ball of dirty fur that vaguely resembled a living being. I decided that said ball was too fluffy to pass by, so I took it home, gave it a bath, fed it some beef Ramen(don't judge, I was on a tight budget), named it Maverick(because why not?) and took it to a vet. She said that Mav was not a deformed rodent or anything like that, but a puppy. Not just any puppy, but a pure bred Newfoundland puppy. She said he was a little malnourished and needed some shots, but after that he'd be fine. What she didn't tell me was that my cute little puppy would grow to be bigger than me in less than a year(and still growing, might I add), and that he needed a crap ton of exercise or else he'd flip out. He also sheds. A lot.

That is how I ended up sitting here by my front door with my now humongous ball of fluff, an hour before I usually wake up, pulling on running shoes, wearing tight jogging clothes I'd normally never want to be seen in, and dreading the future. I read on a website that a mile of vigorous exercise(read: jogging) and regular trips to the park are supposed to keep Newfies healthy. But what about my health? Well, I mean, I guess running will be good for me, but...I don't want to. I feel like pouting.

"Ma'am, I recommend that you progress at a quicker pace. The first shift at your new employment starts in three hours."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Stop your yapping." I hopped to my feet, sighing dramatically, before grabbing Mav's leash. He jumped up and started panting. "Don't get too excited. I'm not the best running buddy." Drool dripped from his mouth. "That's attractive."

Sometimes I wonder what my dog would tell me if he could talk. Probably suggest mental treatment. Or better kibble. Either is very likely.

"Ma'am-"

"I know, I know." I stuck my headphones into my cell, put the buds securely in my ears, turned on my Dance Music(hopefully that helps. Or maybe I'll just spontaneously dance in the middle of the sidewalk. Both ways, we get exercise), stuck it in my bra, and opened the door.

"MAISSIE, you know how to reach me if anyone breaks in. Watch the house for me." I locked the door behind me, already lightly bouncing to the beat of Smooth Criminal.

"Ready to die inside?" He barked. "I take that as a yes."

~.~

If this guy doesn't stop lapping me, I'm going to slap him. Screw my pacifistic views, I was dying and dripping sweat, while this guy wasn't even breathing hard! My phone has long since died(I forgot to charge it; oops), and left me music-less and suffering. And that stupid fast guy and Mav were having a blast. The only solace I was currently finding was the slightly comforting thought that the guy next to me was suffering just as horribly.

The worst part: I didn't even _have_ to run anymore. My mile was long since up. But ever since the first time Mr. Show-off passed me by, I became determined. I _would_ out-last him. Mark my words. He's going down.

"Hanging in there?" I glared at the blond who dared out-run me.

"The question is, are you?" I could barely speak through my panting. Lordie, this was almost worse than the vent shaft incident.

"Come on, Steve, give the girl a break. We can't all have infinite endurance." Ah! My fellow normal human to the rescue! 'Steve' immediately listened to him, veering off into a grassy area and plopping down. I waited until the other guy did the same before collapsing next to them.

"Never...again..." I panted out, glaring at my way too happy dog.

"Don't get too discouraged. We were in the military, it wasn't exactly an even standard." The less fast one said. "I'm Sam, and this is Steve." I shook his offered hand.

"Hayden. This is Maverick, the reason why I'm even up at this ungodly hour." Steve and Sam let themselves being sniffed, then promptly slobbered on by my overly excited newfoundland. To anyone that didn't know Mav, he probably looked pretty imposing. He was this hulking mass of black fur and sharp teeth. Then you pet him, and he automatically becomes a huge softie.

"Well, he's friendly, I can say that." Steve was getting the most attention, which surprised me. Usually my fur ball was very slow to trust others.

"He seems to really like you. I might just have to bother you every morning from now on, lest this poor, poor tortured soul might just start to mope." Sarcasm. That's a pretty good indicator that I'd survive the burning in my lungs and aching in my legs.

"We can't have that, can we?"

"Besides, I don't think that's a face anyone could say no to."

"It's settled then. I'll have to torture myself until he's appeased." This must be my lucky week. I think I've just successfully made two more friends(or at least acquaintances), which, counting Xavier, makes a grand total of three. A new record. I don't think anything could ruin my mood.

"Ma'am," MAISSIE said into my headphones. "my systems have discovered a new mutant in New York. Doctor Franken Wilfred Staine has made himself known." Never mind. I take that back. This week is the worst ever.

 **I just love cliffhangers, don't you? Don't worry. I'm going to try and start updating weekly. Just a reminder: I own nothing at all except Hayden. Xavier, MAISSIE, and Maverick. You could also count Daniel, but...eh. He's not awesome enough. Comment, follow, review, favorite, alert, whatever you deem necessary! Until Next Time!**


	3. Nightmares and Gizmos

**SO now that its summer I'll be able to post more! Yay!** **I** **have another reviewer!** **A few actually.** **Yay** **#2** **! Thank you to all of those who have followed and reviewed, this chapter's for you!**

 **Brief Summary: Who is this Dr. Staine that Hayden dreads so much? What is the Penitentiary? What is our heroine's mutant ability? Why doesn't she use her powers? Find out here, in Nightmares and Gizmos!**

 **-Hayden Pen**

Okay everyone who's reading this. There's something I have to admit. I thought I could prolong this a bit longer, but the arrival of a certain someone kinda thwarted my plans. I'm sorry if I led you into thinking I'm a good little human, full of normal and boring stuff. I'm going to shatter your illusions right now. I'm not normal at all. Or human. In the slightest. I'm 100% villainous mutant.

Not that it exactly started out that way.

I was the product of a stupid drug-induced one-night stand at a sleazy hotel called Egyptian Oasis. My dad was a sleazebag bum from Queens living off his weed farm. My mom was an alcoholic that dabbled in heroin, born in Chicago. She nearly pickled Little Me in the womb with booze.

I know, I know, such a happy beginning, isn't it? I really wish I could say it got better.

One day, about a week before Little Pickled Me was due to be born, my mom got an anonymous email(to give you more of an idea on how crappy she is; my mom used a yahoo account). It said they'd give her one million dollars if she forked me over with no questions asked for "Scientific Observation". Any normal mom would've flipped shit and gone to the authorities, or written them back a rather strongly worded letter. Mine jumped for joy. Yay for her! More drug money! I'm pretty sure she would've given me to them for free, to be honest, just so that she wouldn't have to take time out of her busy drinking schedule to raise me. Geeze. She just sounds better and better the more I talk about her, doesn't she?

Anyway, I was born(miraculously alive) seven days later. Mom named me a rather pretty name, considering the circumstances. Daisy, Daisy Mudd. She didn't even hold me once that day. The only thing she cradled was her new fortunes, probably not even glancing up as a man in a black duster swooped in and took Little Me away. They drove miles and miles from New York, days and days away from the bright city lights, never stopping except for gas and pee breaks. Eventually we ended up in a little town smack dab in The-Middle-of-Nowhere-Wyoming. There, about 50 miles from the nearest town, was this ancient brown brick building. It was very grade school-esque and even had a little playground in the back.

The inside was huger than it looked, with 30 rooms covered in fluffy carpets and bright wallpapers, each filled with a new toy or game. I remember, because of my weird expanded mutant memory, growing up very privileged and loved. I was never without a playmate or a new toy, and my favorite foods were cooked every night. All the clothes, ribbons, hair bands, toys, or music that I could ever want were supplied. The man who took me from the hospital, who told me to call him Uncle Franky, basically raised me. He taught me how to fly a kite, how to play all sorts of instruments, how to tie my shoes, home schooled me, the like. The only things he expected in return were a vial of my blood every morning and every night, and for me undergo extensive physical training. I thought I'd gotten a pretty decent hand in life.

Until I turned thirteen. That's when it all changed.

I woke up on my birthday with a really weird headache, intense stomach cramps, and a fizzy, sparking purple mass encasing my left hand. I tried to dispel it; shook my fingers, blew, covered it in covers. That only managed to make it feel weird, like trying to move your leg too soon after it fell asleep.

So I did what I always did when I couldn't fix something on my own, spoiled little brat-mutant I was. I screamed for my Uncle Frankie. He was thundering into my room after 20 seconds flat, wired glasses askew and olden-style duster badly in need of some ironing. He'd probably been woken up by my shrieking.

"What?! What is it?! Are you hurt? Are you bleeding? Concussion? Oooooh no!" He fretted, checking me over thoroughly. It always kind of bothered me when he did that, scanning me as if I were a rare and valuable specimen, not his adoptive daughter. His eyes widened when he saw the purple mass.

"Please, help me! I don't know what to do!" And, snivelly little coward I was, I started sobbing and jumped into my Uncle's arms. I think, out of all the horrible and detestable deeds I've ever done, that's the one I regret most.

The second my skin came in contact with his, Uncle Frankie's lanky body stiffened and started convulsing. Frothy green foam ran like a faucet from his nose, mouth, and ears, soaking both of us. He went limp. I started sobbing harder, trying to hold him up, but eventually my arms gave out and he fell to the hard floor, his head thudding wetly. I watched in horror as he began having an intense seizure, not knowing what to do or how to help. But then, as quickly as it came, everything stopped. The shaking, the frothing, the limpness. His eyes filled with childlike wonder. He lifted his palm, ever so gently, and a dancing green flame about the size of my forearm appeared above it.

Uncle Frankie sat up and smiled the scariest smile I'd ever seen.

That was the day I discovered his actual reason for stealing me away from my mom. He knew that I had the ability to gift anyone with a superpower. And he wanted that power under his control. It was also the day I started my period. Needless to say, that week sucked.

At first, the only things I could do were to give someone the power they were naturally inclined to have, and then take it away if I chose. Then, after about a year of practice, I could give a person any power I wanted then to have. Uncle Frankie had me practice on about ten of his 'cousins', these huge, beefy young guys who looked better prepared for the Marines than domestics. They all ended up with a weird array of powers, or dead from the transformation. Frankie had me practice everyday, gifting and taking away, gifting and taking away, not stopping until I physically had to. But Uncle never let me touch him again. Then I just thought he had something contagious that he didn't want to spread. Now I know. He didn't want me to take his power away. He loved being strong and imposing. He was addicted to it.

The bad stuff really started happening after I'd perfected my gift.

Instead of taking my blood every morning and night like normal, Uncle Frankie would inject me with this thick, viscous pink liquid. It looked like Pepto Bismol's steroid junkie older brother. It made me throw up and painfully inched itself through my veins, slowly invading my body, and, like that cheesy venom from Twilight, it was the worst pain I'd ever felt. But I let him put it in me. Because I was stupid and naïve. _He was my uncle and he loved me, he would never do anything wrong. He wouldn't hurt me_. Right.

I was stupid. Because Uncle Frankie wasn't the dorky-adorable middle aged dude with a knack for puzzles and cheesy jokes. He wasn't the man he led me to love. He was a crazed scientist by the name of Dr. Franken Wilfred Staine, wanted by five different nations for illegal human experimentation, torture of animals and humans, and mass murder. He ran a human experimentation practice code named The Penitentiary. Catchy, isn't it?

Dr. Franken had developed the stuff he shot into my bloodstream. It was a serum that only worked on mutants with naturally given powers, and forced upon you the horrible power to control minds. Because the doctor didn't just want to experiment, no that would be too easy. He wanted to be extremely cliché and take over the whole world. How would he do that, you ask? He'd jack up a mutant harboring power-gifting powers with mind control meds, and force her to create an army of super-powered burly dudes, completely slaves to her will, then make her sick them on the world.

And, at first, I agreed. Because I loved him. And I thought he loved me back.

He wanted me to test my new power on the inhabitants of a small town near our home, quaintly called Gregorville. It was a pretty little town, with one diner, two churches, one store, and a library that tripled as a courthouse and a school. It had a population of 50, maximum. A third of that was kids. I told you I've done many detestable deeds? This is an extremely close second to gifting the Doctor fire powers. This is where it all went wrong.

Thus far, I had managed to control minds individually and in small groups, maybe 15 or 16 at a time. But I wasn't progressing fast enough. The Doctor wanted me to mature faster, wanted absolute control quicker. So I was sent into town with nothing but my clothes and a bo-staff. Mission: Make every citizen of Gregorville slaves to my will.

I stood in the town's center while everyone was fast asleep, feet planted firmly in the ground, hands clutched tightly to my head. My mind control power works as an invisible wave, it comes out in pulses and spreads to whatever region I wish. But it requires ultimate concentration, lest the wave spread further or stronger than anticipated. So I sent it out upon the unsuspecting residents of Gregorville. The residents who didn't know that they wouldn't wake up that morning, or ever again.

I wasn't ready for the strain of controlling 50 minds. The second I honed in on the last snoozing child, the wave exploded. At first, the only thing I could feel was a fire in my brain and blood pouring from my nose. The next all I heard were agonized screams as everyone's brains liquified, pouring out every opening in their head. Some were so crazed in pain that they started running about, squirting brain-gore all over the nicely trimmed grass and pretty sidewalks. All over the cute little houses. All over me.

My illusions of love from the Doctor shattered, along with any notions of power and control.

I murdered 50 innocent people. 20 kids. 25 adults. 5 elderly. I counted each lifeless body.

I couldn't go back to the insane Doctor Staine, or his rooms full of toys, or his delicious food, or his injections, or his cheesy jokes. I couldn't live a lie anymore.

So I did the only thing I could think to do. I ran.

And they ran after me. I created many different gadgets and gizmos in attempt to deter them; the most prominent of them all being MAISSIE. She would warn me every time he was near, giving me just enough time to run. I thought I'd lost them three years ago, when I'd deleted all traces of my previous existence and became Hayden Penn. But I was wrong. Because Doctor Staine had finally found me, and he wasn't going to let me escape unscathed this time.

"Hey, you okay?" I blinked owlishly at Steve and Sam, honestly having forgot about them during my internal drama. I grabbed each of their sleeves.

"Look, you have no idea how sorry I am that you've been dragged near all this. I know I'm a stranger that you can't trust, but listen to me right now. If you know what's good for you, your families, and your friends, you'll run. Run like hell. Run right now! And don't stop until you're someplace safe. Forget about me. You never saw me. Hayden Penn doesn't exist. Now GO!" I used all my strength to shove them away, not even stopping to look at them before I grabbed Mav's leash and bolted.

"Has he caught my trail yet?" I asked MAISSIE, who had wireless connection to my earbuds.

"Dr. Staine is still in the airport, but will soon breach the streets." My body screamed in protest at being pushed into running again, but I ignored it. My brain was too busy sorting through escape plans and battle strategies.

"Did he bring any Hitsticks this time?" After I'd left, nearly twenty-five of the bulky dudes I'd gifted still lived and stayed loyal to Doctor Staine, slaves to his will. I thought since the good doctor wanted to name his weird practice The Penitentiary, I'd name his minions after prison guard batons.

"I detect five other mutants within a 200 yard radius of Doctor Franken Wilfred Staine."

"Details, MAISSIE, details!" I screeched to a halt at my apartment's door, fumbling for the keys.

"All are male, each gifted with a power by you. Ivan Hessly is 35 and possesses telekinetic abilities. Aaron Derrick is 42 and possesses an extremely enhanced sense of smell. Bo Hellman is 28 and possesses superhuman strength. Kale Casper is 32 and possesses venom glands within his hands and mouth that, once ejected upon the skin, causes slow and painful death. Queens Greene is 25 and possesses superhuman speed." I finally managed to find the right key.

"Shit. Where are they moving to?"

"They progress in the direction of your apartment, ma'am."

"I was afraid you'd say that. Why did I even ask?" I locked the door behind me and jumped over piles of computer parts, keyboards, motherboards, and stray wires to reach my cramped bedroom. The whole flat was a small minefield of tech junk, but my room looked like Steve Jobs vomited all over it. I had to shove flash drives and memory chips out of the way to reach my clothes in the dresser, and my bathroom had invention plans and blueprints covering the counters and grubby tiles. I grabbed what was most important and shoved it in my emergency backpack. Not surprisingly, most of the essentials were computer parts.

I hurriedly pulled off my flimsy jogging clothes, trading them for something I promised myself I'd never wear again. In a dusty old box, shoved deep, deep under a pile of CD cases where I could never accidentally stumble across it and ruin my day, was my old mission suit. I only wore it once. The black leather was still tough and not shaped to my skin, the boots had unscuffed toes and still-squeaky soles, and the black cowl the hid my face from prying eyes had no stray threads. The only thing that showed it had ever even left the store(if it was bought at a store; you can never tell with my bat-shit ex-father) was the blood stain on the off-white belt, never fading even after what seemed like a thousand washes.

Usually when Staine rears his ugly head I just grab my crap and run. But now he's in a city chuck-full of civilians, packing five of my most talented Hitsticks and who knows what else. He means business this time, and I won't be unprepared. The leather is cool and yielding as it slips over my skin, fitting with a sinister familiarity. I shove out the memories that suddenly course through my brain, diverting all my attention into tying up the laces of my boots. It would not do to dwell on the past and become distracted; I needed all my concentration if I was to fight Dr. Franken without use of my powers. I ran out of my room, not daring to look in the mirror. I knew what I'd see. A little girl playing at being a superhero, dressed in a cheesy costume. The girl I used to be.

But I was different now. Or at least I liked to think so.

"Ma'am, might I inquire as to why you don such attire?" I roll my eyes and tie MAISSIE tightly to my backpack, along with HIDACEN. Human Injury Detector And Civilian Existence Notifier. He is a more recent invention, an AI like MAISSIE, but encased in an MP3 and created to detect the civilians and injured in an area, not mutants or Supers. One more perk: he can't talk! He only sends prerecorded messages of my voice into my earbuds! Score!

"I'm going to face the music, MAISSIE. Time to stop running away with my tail between my legs." That created a rather hilarious mental image.

"I take it your meaning is that you intend to fight Doctor Franken Wilfred Staine?"

"Boy, aren't you a smart cookie. Nothing gets past you."

"I advise against such an action. There is 75% probability of defeat, and that is should you use your powers." I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I think that she understands my sarcasm and just elects to ignore it. I shove Mav into a bulletproof vest(don't ask how I got it, that would be a whole other court case you'd have to witness in), unhooking his leash. It is really only for show; he's way too loyal to move from my side.

"You know, I don't think I remember asking your opinion."

"That is because you did not. I was created to-"

"Yeah, I know. Inform me of danger." I grumbled, walking out the door and locking it behind me.

"If that is the machine's job, your engineering skills have begun to fade." I dropped my keys and slowly turned on my heel, eyes wide. Not five feet in front of me, wearing the same old stained lab coat and thrice-taped glasses, was my greatest fear.

"Father." He smiled evilly.

"Hello, Daisy."


End file.
